More Days in the Life at Stalag 13
by Deana
Summary: Snippets involving our favorite Heroes! Chapter 6: 'A Banana a Day Doesn't Keep the Doctor Away...' In the episode, 'The Scientist', when Newkirk and Hogan were destroying the hotel, something strange occurred that I decided to attempt explaining!
1. Jackpot!

Jackpot  
A Hogan's Heroes story  
By Deana Lisi

Here's my answer to the challenge given by CaptainSmirk!

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Newkirk stumbled through the dark, with one arm wrapped around his ribs and the other hand bracing himself against trees as he passed them. Though his mission had been successful, he'd become involved in something unexpected…something that wasn't altogether bad, considering what was safely tucked inside his pocket.

He just wondered if Colonel Hogan would be mad or glad, once he found out.

Part of Newkirk wished that the others had gone looking for him—as it really hurt to keep walking—but he knew that despite what had happened, he wasn't returning all that late. They always gave themselves up to an hour extra time when going into town, to allow for a contact being late, or taking longer to accomplish whatever they were there for.

Closing his eyes, Newkirk had to stop and lean against a tree. The pain in his ribs was making it hard to breathe, and the cold air really wasn't helping.

The snap of a twig startled Newkirk into taking a deep breath, increasing the pain and sending his brain reeling with dizziness. He pushed himself away from the tree anyway, and started walking again as fast as possible; the last thing he needed was to get caught…and his pocket's contents stolen.

After what seemed like forever, Newkirk suddenly saw the tree stump, and relief filled his senses. Opening it was torture, and he stood there for a minute with both hands bracing himself on the wood.

"Newkirk?" he suddenly heard.

Blinking, he realized that Carter was peering up at him from inside the tunnel, and he laboriously climbed in and slowly made his way down.

Hands were suddenly touching him, helping him down and off the ladder. He flinched when someone touched his midsection, and the person quickly removed their hand. People were talking to him, but he couldn't figure out who was saying what.

"Newkirk?" He managed to decipher Carter's voice. "Say something!"

Realizing that his eyes were closed, Newkirk opened them and found himself slumped on the bench near the tunnel ladder. Carter was sitting beside him, gripping his arm, to keep him upright.

"Where are you hurt?" Hogan asked. He saw no blood, which was reassuring, but it was obvious from the way that Newkirk breathed that there was a very painful injury hidden somewhere beneath his clothes.

"Ribs," Newkirk gasped out.

Hogan opened Newkirk's jacket and lifted up his shirt, finding bruises already starting to form. He sent Carter a look, waiting for the sergeant to grip Newkirk with both hands before he gently felt around the area.

Newkirk tensed up and held his breath.

Hogan removed his hand and let Newkirk's shirt drop back into place. "I think there's a few cracked ones; none feel completely broken." He watched the pale corporal's shallow, staccato breathing, and said, "Tell us what happened, Newkirk, in ten words or less."

Newkirk tried to take a breath that would give him enough air to speak with. "Hotel lounge...played pool...won money. Mugged...still have money." He closed his eyes with a wince. "Oww..."

"That's eleven words," said Carter.

Hogan took a deep breath, forcing his voice to sound normal. "Played pool?" he asked, giving Newkirk a chance to explain before he got upset.

"Before contact…big guy…made challenge…huge payout…I won." Despite his pain, Newkirk grinned a little at the last part.

"How much money?" Carter asked. "And who mugged you?"

"In pocket…" Newkirk told him. "Big guy…wanted…'is money…back…sent friends."

Carter stuck his hand in Newkirk's jacket pockets and took out a wad of cash that made his eyes bug out of his head.

Hogan's eyebrows shot up, despite himself.

"Gosh, Newkirk!" Carter exclaimed, as he counted. "There's four thousand marks here! You hit the jackpot!"

"How did you win four thousand marks?!" Hogan exclaimed.

Newkirk opened his eyes. Hogan sounded shocked, not mad. He tried to shift his position, and was rewarded with more pain.

Carter gripped his friend's arm tighter. "Ten words, again?"

Newkirk thought for a minute. "Equal match…at first…double or nothin'…I beat 'im."

Hogan shook his head. "And then the contact came?"

Newkirk nodded. "After…I left…three men…attacked…tried to…take money…"

"But they didn't get it," Carter said.

Newkirk shook his head. "Gestapo car…pulled up…scared them…all away…was Hochstetter."

"What was Hochstetter doing there?!" Hogan asked.

Newkirk shook his head.

"Good thing he didn't see you!" Carter said.

Newkirk nodded.

Hogan sighed, wondering if Hochstetter had gotten wind of an Underground meeting, and had thankfully arrived mere minutes too late. He opened his mouth to ask another question, but he knew that Newkirk was already talking more than he should be.

"Hey," Carter suddenly said. "What do you plan to do with the money, Newkirk?"

Newkirk shook his head. "For us…to use…on missions…when we…need it."

When Hogan heard that, he was relieved that he'd given Newkirk a chance to explain before he reacted; what he'd thought to be a selfish action had actually been anything but. He patted the Englishman on the shoulder and got a hand under his arm to help him up. "Good thinking, but in the future, we'd rather have you come back in one piece."

Newkirk's grin turned into a wince as he was pulled up from the bench. "I'll try…to keep…that…in mind…next time…sir."

Hogan and Carter helped Newkirk over to the ladder leading up to the barracks, and Carter quickly climbed it before reaching down to help Newkirk get up it, while Hogan helped from below. Once they finally made it up, Hogan decided to put Newkirk in his quarters, and they managed to get him there without waking any of the other prisoners.

They laid him on the bottom bunk, and watched him anxiously.

"Do you need anything?" Hogan asked.

Newkirk, eyes closed, shook his head.

"What about his clothes?" Carter asked, referring to the fact that Newkirk was wearing civilian attire.

"That's one reason why he's in _here_," said Hogan. "So Schultz won't see when he wakes us for roll call."

Carter nodded.

Newkirk opened his eyes and saw the nervous look on his friend's face. "I'm…okay…Andrew…don't worry…'bout me. Go…to…bed."

"You don't have to keep talking in sets of ten words, you know," said Hogan, suddenly finding it amusing.

Newkirk smiled slightly.

"He's right though, Carter," said Hogan. "Cracked ribs are painful, but not dangerous. Go to bed, I'll keep an eye on him."

Carter sighed, obviously not wanting to leave. "Okay. Goodnight."

Newkirk closed his eyes as Carter reluctantly left, and he wondered if the pain would prevent him from sleeping.

Hogan grabbed a blanket and covered Newkirk with it. "I didn't know that you're a professional pool player."

Newkirk nodded. "Been playin'…since I was…a lad. I've won…tournaments."

Hogan was impressed. "I'm surprised that guy went double or nothing with you, then."

Newkirk smiled slightly. "He couldn't…tell. I didn't…play my…best…at first."

Hogan finished changing into his pajamas and looked at Newkirk, in shock. "Are you telling me that you held back until the end?"

Newkirk nodded. "Let 'im…think 'e…was winnin'. Then I…called…double."

Hogan shook his head. "Two thousand marks wasn't enough for you, eh?"

"Four thousand…much better…in…_our_ line…of business…sir."

Hogan laughed as he climbed onto his top bunk. "You're amazing, Newkirk. Try to get some sleep…and knock off the ten-word replies, will you?"

Not even the pain could keep Newkirk from chuckling.

THE END


	2. The Real Story

**The Real Story**  
A Hogan Heroes snippet  
By Deana Lisi

Missing scene in the episode 'The General Swap'.  
I know that others have done this before, but I couldn't help but think that Hogan isn't the type to go running to the other Heroes to tell them what Barton said to him.  
I know that he told them something, since one of them does mention it, but it was only Newkirk who defended Hogan to Barton at the end of the episode, so I wanted to write just  
how Newkirk found out the whole story. Enjoy!

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Colonel Hogan angrily stormed out of Klink's office. How dare General Barton say those things to him, and how stupid could the man be? Couldn't he tell that Hogan was trying to protect him, by saying that he wasn't really the man that the Germans thought he was? But no, Barton was too concerned with ensuring that he received the privileges of his rank. The man obviously thought he was better than everyone else! _And he told me that __I'm__ a disgrace to the uniform!_

Thinking back to everything that he and his little group had accomplished over the past two years—at the constant risk of their lives—Hogan practically saw red. _How __dare__ he say that to me!_ he thought again, grabbing the door handle to head outside and yanking it open. He immediately collided with someone on the landing, and, assuming it was a German guard, he roughly elbowed the man aside and angrily stomped down the three steps.

It took only two seconds for Hogan to realize what he'd done, and he stopped walking, wondering if he was about to be shot in the back. No shout or cocking of a rifle sounded, and Hogan slowly turned around to see just who was on the landing.

Corporal Newkirk stood leaning against the wall, both arms wrapped around his stomach, looking at his CO with a puzzled expression.

Hogan was shocked to see that he'd accidentally assaulted one of his own men, and he rushed back up the stairs, taking Newkirk by the arm and sitting him on the top step, where he sat beside him and watched Newkirk catch the breath that he'd obviously knocked out of him.

Newkirk coughed and straightened up a little. "Ya've got…hard elbows, guv."

Hogan shook his head. "I am _so_ sorry. Are you all right?"

Newkirk coughed again, and nodded.

Hogan closed his eyes with a sigh and rubbed his forehead warily, upset that the General had rattled him to the point where he didn't even notice the people around him.

"What 'appened?" Newkirk asked, knowing that it had to be something serious for Hogan to act that way.

Hogan didn't really feel like talking about it, but he knew that he owed Newkirk an explanation. "General Barton," he sighed. "He didn't cooperate at all…when I told Klink that it wasn't him, Barton insisted that he was, and that he wanted all the privileges that his rank deserves."

"Blimey."

Hogan nodded. "When he heard that no one has ever escaped from this Stalag, he scolded me, that 'it's the duty of every soldier to escape'. Klink told him that I make sure that everyone behaves, so Barton called me a traitor, and…"

Newkirk blinked, waiting for the rest.

Hogan sighed again. "He said that I'm a disgrace to the uniform."

Newkirk's eyebrows shot up to the sky. "What? Is 'e daft? After everythin' ya've done, riskin' ya life everyday, an'—!"

Hogan squeezed his arm. "Shh!" he said, looking around.

Newkirk stopped, realizing that his voice had been too loud.

"Barton doesn't know what we've been doing here," Hogan said.

"Well, I 'ave a mind to tell 'im," Newkirk growled. "_After_ I tell 'im where 'e can ruddy _go_!"

"You _can't_ tell him," Hogan said. He was quiet for a minute, before shaking his head with a sigh. "Besides, what he thinks of me isn't important."

Newkirk was still angry. "Of _course_ it is! That bloody fool just insulted the person who should 'ave the rank that _'e_ 'as!" He coughed and pressed a hand to the sore spot on his midsection. "Ow."

Hogan shot him an apologetic look.

Newkirk smiled slightly. "Don't worry about it, sir. I'll live."

Hogan sighed again, and stared out across the camp.

Newkirk watched, and echoed the sigh. _I wish I 'ad a chance to tell 'im the real story about the Colonel…_

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The next day, Newkirk had his chance. Seeing a car pull up to take Barton out of the camp, he dashed over, not even sure what he was going to say, or even if he had enough time to say it. All he knew, was that he couldn't let the man leave without changing his mind about the Colonel.

"General," he called. "Can I 'ave a quick word with ya?"

Barton looked annoyed, haughtiness easily displayed across his features. "What is it, soldier?"

Newkirk came to a stop, and needed a few seconds to stop himself from punching the man right in the face. "Well, sir, it's about Colonel 'ogan."

Barton gave the Englishman his full attention, expecting to hear a complaint that would confirm what he thought about the man. "Yes?"

Newkirk thought for a minute before taking a deep breath. "Well, sir…ya 'ave it all wrong."

Barton blinked, not expecting to hear that. "What?"

"Colonel 'ogan is the best officer that I know," Newkirk told him. "An' I've met a lotta officers, sir; all of which I couldn't care less about. I mean, 'ow many peacocks really need to strut around?"

Barton made a face, and Newkirk realized that he hadn't put that very well. "I'm not sayin' that all officers are peacocks, sir…an' Colonel 'ogan definitely is not. We all look up to 'im…a lot of us would probably be dead by now if 'e wasn't 'ere. We've all tried to escape at one point or another, an' never succeeded. I tried more times than I can count, an' one day, after being shot, dragged back, an' thrown into the cooler, I lost all 'ope. I lay there on the floor, an' wanted to die. Then, Colonel 'ogan was brought to the Stalag that very day, an' managed to get Klink to let 'im into me cell…"* Newkirk's eyes grew far away as he remembered. "I'd barely eaten in the year that I'd been 'ere, I was sick…barely anyone even knew what me voice sounded like, because I never even 'ad the willpower to talk to anyone. But then, when I opened me eyes an' saw the Colonel…I came back to life." He looked back at Barton, and his voice became urgent. "I know 'im, sir…I'd already known 'im; 'e was the one who trained me to fly the B-17 when I was just a Private**. The Colonel wouldn't collaborate with the Germans if 'is life depended on it! Don't ya see, sir…'e keeps Klink fooled, 'e plays 'im like a ruddy fiddle, so we can be taken care of as well as possible…an' 'e succeeds, 'e ruddy succeeds every single time! If ya ever 'ad a chance to visit another Stalag, ya'd see that we're livin' like kings compared to them! A disgrace to 'is uniform? Anyone who 'as the nerve to say _that_, is the disgrace!" For a second, Newkirk was afraid he'd gone too far. "Every prisoner 'ere would give their life for the Colonel, because 'e's saved _all_ of us." Newkirk paused, having to catch his breath. "So that's the setup, General…maybe I shouldn't speak up like this, but, well, I just wanted ya to know 'ow we all feel about Colonel 'ogan. An' ya can't put me in jail for it, because legally speakin', I'm in jail already."

Suddenly Klink walked over to them. "That's all, Newkirk."

With that, Newkirk walked off. He took a deep breath, glad that he'd had his say, but upset that Klink had ruined any chance of Newkirk finding out Barton's reaction. He was slightly surprised when he heard Barton speak a few seconds later.

"Hogan," the General called. "Colonel Hogan."

Near the corner of the barracks, Newkirk saw Hogan and the others standing together. The Colonel looked up and walked forward a few steps.

Newkirk looked back at Barton, to see him raise his hand in a salute.

Hogan saluted back.

Newkirk was so happy at the turn of events, that he almost missed the dumfounded expression on Klink's face as Barton got into the car. As it drove off, Newkirk looked back to Colonel Hogan, to see him cross his arms with a smile.

_Whatever you told him,_ Hogan's eyes seemed to say. _Thanks._

Newkirk nodded back._ Anytime, sir._

THE END

* Chapter 9, 'Something to Live For' in my 'A Day in the Life at Stalag 13' snippet collection. (The _other _collection!)

** Chapter 8, 'History Repeats Itself' in my 'A Day in the Life at Stalag 13' snippet collection. (See above. LOL)


	3. When it Rains, it Pours, part 1

**When it Rains, it Pours**  
A Hogan Heroes story  
By Deana  
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone. Bummer.

This story was written in response to Kim's wondering of why Newkirk was wearing a pair of white pajamas in the season 2 episode 'Information Please', instead of his typical English nightshirt, which he wore before _and_ after that episode! She wished for someone to write an explanation, so here you go, Kim! Enjoy! LOL

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"Why do you keep looking out the window?"

"Looks like rain."

"Oh."

Newkirk glanced behind himself at Carter, LeBeau, and Kinch, as they watched him from the table. All four of them had spent a lot of time on the barracks roof that day, trying to fix various spots where they'd sprung leaks…the biggest spot being right over Newkirk's bunk.

"If it rains, do you think the tar will hold?" Carter asked.

Newkirk shook his head. "Not a chance. It needs a lotta time to dry." He glanced at his watch and gave up looking out the window, going over to his bunk and climbing up.

The others took that as their cue, since they knew that Schultz would be coming any minute to announce 'lights out'.

"Hey Newkirk," Carter whispered, after someone shut off the light.

"Yeah?"

"Do you wanna switch bunks? That way you won't get wet this time if it rains."

Newkirk blinked, touched by his friend's offer. "Thanks, Andrew, but I couldn't do that to ya."

"Why not? I don't mind. We got lots of rain in North Dakota. I used to camp-out in it all the time, it was fun! The rain would go *plip plip plip* on the tent, and—"

"Hey Newkirk," LeBeau cut in. "The Colonel has an extra bunk."

The Englishman rolled his eyes. "Oh, sure Louis, I'm supposed to go in there, wake 'im up, an' ask 'im if I can sleep there 'cause it might rain."

LeBeau chuckled.

"Schultz is coming," Kinch whispered, as they could all tell by the sound of heavy footsteps.

The door suddenly opened, and Schultz poked his head in, surprised to see the light already off. He tiptoed around and shined a flashlight at each bunk, to make sure that each prisoner was there.

Suddenly, Newkirk went, "BOO!"

"AHHHH!" Schultz exclaimed, dropping the flashlight.

The barracks erupted in hysterical laughter, and someone turned on the light.

"That was _not_ very nice!" Schultz said, picking up his flashlight.

"Sorry, Schultzie," Newkirk said. "I couldn't resist."

The German guard made a stern face at him, before leaving.

Hogan's door suddenly opened, and he stepped out. "What's going on out here?"

"Schultz dropped his flashlight," Carter quickly said, before the blame for waking Hogan up could be pinned on his friend.

"Colonel," LeBeau said. "Newkirk has a question for you!"

The Englishman shot the Frenchman a glare.

Hogan blinked sleepy eyes. "What is it?"

"Nothin', sir," Newkirk said. "LeBeau is makin' it up."

Hogan yawned and nodded, turning around. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight!" everyone chorused back.

The light went off, and it turned quiet again…for a few minutes. Suddenly, a strange _*fwaaaaaaap*_ filled the air, followed by a startled shout.

Someone turned the light back on, to display LeBeau sitting up in his bunk, with a deck of cards spread over his blanket.

"Wow!" Carter exclaimed. "Newkirk, not a single card landed on the floor! How did you do that!"

"SHHHH!" various men shot at him, before the light went off again, and silence once again ruled…just in time for a confused Hogan to open his door again, peek out, and shake his head before re-closing it.

Newkirk fell asleep chuckling…but woke up drowning.

One minute he was sound asleep, and the next he was panicking as water poured over his face. For a second, he thought that LeBeau was getting back at him for the deck of cards, but it wasn't stopping, and he flailed around and started choking when he accidentally inhaled some of the water.

Suddenly, voices erupted around him, and the light came on once again. Hands were pulling him off his bunk, and he found himself being pulled across the room and sat on someone's footlocker.

"What happened?" Colonel Hogan's voice exclaimed over the melee, and suddenly, someone was wiping at his face with a towel.

"Newkirk," Hogan's voice spoke again. "Look at me."

The Englishman finally opened his eyes, before closing them again when they unexpectedly began stinging. He suddenly noticed that it sounded like someone was moving furniture, and the towel was wiping at his eyes now. Water suddenly poured over his face again, and he gave a cry of shock.

"No, it's okay," said Hogan, as he tried to get the wet tar off the Englishman's face. "We gotta get that stuff out of your eyes."

Carter glanced towards Kinch and Schultz, who'd dragged his and Newkirk's bunkbeds away from the gaping hole in the ceiling. He shook his head, before patting his friend's back, who was still coughing.

Klink arrived just then, staring in shock at the bizarre display. When he saw the mess that appeared to be Corporal Newkirk, his eyes bugged out of his head.

"What 'appened?" Newkirk finally was able to say, his voice sounding scratchy. He reached up and rubbed at his burning eyes, before someone roughly grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands away from his face.

"No! You'll only get more tar in them!" Hogan said. "Did you swallow any?"

"What?" Newkirk forced his eyes open, blinking furiously as he tried to make out his surroundings.

Klink approached them, and watched as Hogan tried to help the unfortunate Englishman.

"Do you have any castor oil?" Hogan asked.

"Castor oil?" Klink echoed. "For what?"

"To get rid of the tar he swallowed," Hogan said.

"No!" Newkirk quickly exclaimed. "I didn't swallow any!"

"Are you positive?" Hogan asked, as LeBeau poured more water over Newkirk's face.

The Englishman wasn't _exactly_ sure, but there was _no way _that he would let himself suffer _that_ embarrassment…what had already happened was bad enough. He groaned and tried to rub his eyes again, but Hogan stopped him.

"This isn't working," the colonel said. "He needs a shower."

Klink nodded. "Take him there. I will tell the guards."

Five seconds later, Newkirk felt Hogan help him up and lead him out the door—and back into the rain—towards the bathing hut.

Carter, LeBeau, and Kinch watched them go, before looking up at the hole in the ceiling, unable to believe that all their work to plug the leaks that day had not only been wasted, but now they had an even _bigger _job ahead of them...

TBC


	4. When it Rains, it Pours, part 2

Once Hogan and Newkirk reached the bathing hut, the colonel turned on the water before placing Newkirk's hands on the knob and closing the curtain.

"Keep your face in the water," he said.

Newkirk obeyed. A minute later, a towel touched one of his hands, and he rubbed at his eyes. When he was finally able to partly open them, he looked down at himself to see his nightshirt and exposed skin covered in tar.

"Oh, blimey!" he said.

"Newkirk? You all right?" Hogan said from the other side of the curtain.

"Yeah…I think so, at least." He undid the buttons and let the nightshirt fall to the floor, where he kicked it into a corner. He was annoyed to find that the tar had spilled inside his nightshirt as well, and he spent quite a while scrubbing. When he was finally finished—or rather, gave up—he shut off the water, and two bigger towels were handed inside to him. He wrapped one around his waist, and the other over his shoulders.

"How are your eyes?" Hogan asked him after he stepped out. "Oh…not my smartest question."

Newkirk walked over to the closest mirror and looked at his reflection, dismayed to find a black tinge clinging to his skin…not to mention parts of his hair! His eyes were red and swollen, and he looked totally awful.

"Are you _sure_ you didn't swallow any?" Hogan asked again.

Newkirk used the mirror to see inside his mouth, and he was grateful to see no blackness inside. "Pretty sure."

Hogan sighed. "_That's_ a relief."

Newkirk wholeheartedly agreed. "Uh," he suddenly said, looking around.

"What?"

"What am I supposed to wear to bed?"

Hogan blinked, having forgotten that, as a prisoner, Newkirk only had one nightshirt. "I'll be right back. Stay here."

Newkirk nodded and watched as the colonel ran out. He sighed and sat on a bench, fighting against himself to avoid rubbing his eyes.

Hogan came back a few minutes later, and Newkirk frowned at the pair of white pajamas that the colonel was holding. "Whose are those?"

"Does it matter? Put them on."

Newkirk took them and obeyed. The fit was slightly bigger than he needed, and the pants were an inch or two too long. He raised his arm and squinted at the sleeve, fingering the smooth material. "These 'ave to be Klink's!" he said.

Hogan smiled. "Ten points."

"But 'ow didja get 'im to lend 'im to me?"

Hogan chuckled. "It wasn't _too_ hard. He was reluctant, until I asked him if he really expected you to sleep naked."

Despite himself, Newkirk blushed slightly. "Oh, thanks, Colonel. I'm so glad that this traumatic event for me was able to generate some laughs."

Hogan let his smile drop away, and he put an arm around Newkirk's shoulders. "Sorry. You know that we have to go to extremes sometimes to get what we want from our dear Kommandant."

Newkirk nodded, as they left the hut. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, to his relief. "Me nightshirt," he suddenly said.

"Leave it. We'll clean it tomorrow."

Newkirk raised a hand to rub his eyes again, but Hogan grabbed his arm and lowered it. "Uh uh, you can't do that."

"They're burnin' like there's no tomorrow. 'ow am I supposed to go back to sleep?"

Hogan gave him a sympathetic expression.

Newkirk sighed again.

They reached their barracks a minute later, and everyone was still awake, waiting for them.

"Oh, mon ami," LeBeau said. "Your eyes!"

"Don't remind me," Newkirk said, squeezing them shut for a minute, hoping that it would achieve something similar to rubbing.

Hogan led him over to the table, which had also been moved to avoid getting wet from the hole in the ceiling.

"Do they hurt?" Carter asked.

"They're burnin'," Newkirk answered, automatically bringing up a hand to rub them, which was again intercepted by Hogan. The Englishman looked around the barracks, seeing the moved bunkbeds.

"You can use my extra bunk," Hogan said.

At that, Newkirk gave a humorless laugh. "That's what LeBeau suggested I do, before light's out."

"Listen to me, next time!" LeBeau said, with a smile. "Andre also suggested you switch bunks with _him_. I bet you're glad he didn't take you up on your offer, Andre!"

Carter opened his mouth to answer, but Hogan cut in before a long-winded conversation could start. "Break it up; Newkirk could use some rest. Come on," he said, taking the Englishman's arm.

But Newkirk shook his head. "It's no use, sir," he said. "I'll never be able to sleep with me eyes burnin' like this. I might as well just sit out here."

LeBeau glanced at Hogan for a minute. "Maybe some tea will help?" he suggested, going over to the stove. He already had the water boiling, and in less than a minute, he placed a cup on the table before the Englishman. "It's not too hot, so you can drink it all now," he said.

"Thanks, Louis," Newkirk replied. He picked up the cup and drank the entire thing down…and one minute later, almost fell off the bench.

"Whoa!" Carter exclaimed.

Hogan grabbed Newkirk's arm and held him up. "Good thinking, LeBeau."

The Frenchman smiled.

"You drugged his tea?" said Kinch.

LeBeau nodded, with a shrug. "You heard him; his eyes are burning so badly that he cannot sleep. I couldn't let him suffer."

"I'm sure he'll thank you tomorrow," said Hogan. "Let's bring him into my room." He and Kinch carried him in, and laid him on the bottom bunk.

Carter and LeBeau followed them in. "I wonder how long it'll take before he looks normal again," Carter said.

No one answered at first, as they stared at Newkirk's tar-dyed skin.

"Who knows," said LeBeau. "But I'm sure he'll be the subject of a lot of jokes for a while!"

TBC


	5. When it Rains, it Pours, part 3

Newkirk awoke the next day with a huge yawn…and an awful burning sensation in his eyes. He automatically raised his hands, to rub them, but his wrists were suddenly grabbed.

Opening his eyes, he found Carter sitting on the bunk.

"Uh uh," the sergeant said. "You don't wanna do that."

Newkirk furiously blinked and fought to get free. "Yes I do! Leggo, Carter!"

"You can't rub them!" Carter said. He let go of one arm and grabbed something, sticking it into Newkirk's hand. "Try this."

It was a wet cloth. Newkirk slapped it against his eyes, and held it there. He groaned in frustration.

"Doesn't it help?"

Newkirk sighed. "A little." He lifted the cloth and squeezed it, letting water drip into his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Eleven."

Newkirk was startled by Hogan's voice. He hadn't heard anyone else come into the room…_Wait, 'ow did I end up in 'ere?_ "Eleven?"

"You can thank LeBeau for that," said the colonel.

Newkirk removed the cloth and squinted. LeBeau and Kinch were in there room, too. "Ya drugged me."

"You're welcome," the Frenchman replied.

Newkirk couldn't complain; at least he'd slept. He put the cloth back over his eyes.

"Newkirk, are you sure that you didn't swallow any tar?" Hogan persisted. "If you lied about that just to avoid the castor oil, then you're gonna get _really_ sick."

Newkirk shook his head. "I didn't, Colonel. I feel fine except for me eyes."

Hogan breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God for that."

"You must be hungry, then!" said LeBeau, before quickly leaving the room.

Newkirk noticed that he could smell hot eggs. "Didn't everyone already eat?"

"There was no roll call," Carter said.

Newkirk's eyebrows shot up, and he peeked out from under the cloth.

"Klink didn't want to get up again so soon, after being yanked out of bed by our…_incident_," Hogan told him.

"So everyone got to sleep in for once," said Newkirk. "I guess _one_ good thing came outta this, then."

"Two things," said Carter. "You got a new pair of pajamas!"

"Klink would never let me keep them," said Newkirk. "Besides, why would I wear these when I 'ave me nightshirt?"

Everyone was silent for a minute.

"About that, Newkirk," said Hogan. "It's destroyed. There's no way to get the tar out."

Newkirk removed the cloth. "What?"

Hogan sighed. "We tried. LeBeau scrubbed it until it ripped."

"I can sew it."

The colonel shook his head. "The tar didn't come out, and the smell is overwhelming. It's a goner, Newkirk."

Newkirk looked very upset.

Hogan shrugged. "If you want, we can have a funeral for it."

Newkirk slapped the cloth back over his eyes.

"Hey, look on the bright side," said Carter. "Now you look norm—"

Hogan elbowed him.

"Now I what?" said Newkirk.

"Um," said Carter, looking at Hogan.

"Were ya about to say what I _think_ ya were?" Newkirk asked.

"Well," said Carter. "Um…well…it's just that I thought only _girls_ wore nightgowns."

Hogan slapped a hand over his own eyes. "_Now_ you've done it," he mumbled.

"Night_shirts_, Carter!" Newkirk exclaimed. "_All_ Englishman wear them! There's a difference between American women's nightgowns, an' Englishmen's nightshirts! Did mine look like a _dress_?"

Carter opened his mouth, before shutting it and looking at Hogan.

Hogan shook his head at him and mouthed the word 'no!', but Carter was saved from having to answer by the arrival of LeBeau.

"Here we are, _mes amis_!" he said, handing out plates.

Newkirk sat up and took his, plopping the cloth beside himself on the bed. He shot Carter a glare before digging in.

The rest of the day passed quickly, with Newkirk struggling to stop himself from rubbing his eyes. The others climbed up onto the roof and patched it again, and everyone desperately hoped that that the tar would have enough time to dry before anymore rain came.

The Englishman stood under the hole in the barracks ceiling, blinking often as he looked up at it. The others had done a good job patching it up, but they were keeping his and Carter's beds away from the hole for a few days, just in case.

"How are your eyes, _mon ami_?" LeBeau suddenly asked.

Newkirk turned to look at him. The Frenchman was standing at their stove, where water was heating. "Tryin' to decide if ya should drug me again?"

LeBeau grinned guiltily.

Newkirk looked down at the white pajamas that he'd just put on again. "Blimey, I wonder 'ow long I'll 'afta put up with wearin' these."

"Well, I don't think they sell nightgo-I mean, nightshirts in town," Carter said.

Newkirk rolled his eyes. The motion made them burn again, and he automatically raised his hand to rub them.

Someone suddenly grabbed his arm. "Naughty, naughty." It was the colonel.

Newkirk sighed, and sat down at the table. The minute Hogan turned his back; Newkirk quickly raised his hands and rubbed his eyes. The problem was, once he started rubbing them, he didn't want to stop.

Suddenly, something plunked down on the table in front of him, and someone yanked his hands away from his eyes. Blinking, he saw Carter sitting across from him, and a cup of tea before his face. Blinking his vision back into focus, Newkirk picked up the cup of tea, looking towards Hogan to see if he'd been caught.

The colonel was talking to Kinch, who'd just come up from the tunnel. They both looked at him, and walked over to the table.

"Good news," Hogan said. "London is airdropping supplies next week, and they agreed to include a nightshirt for you."

Newkirk's eyebrows rose. "Whose idea was that?"

Carter waved his hand around, and Newkirk smiled.

"How do we explain to Klink where Newkirk got it from?" LeBeau asked.

Hogan shrugged with one shoulder. "We'll tell him that another English prisoner had a spare. What could he think, it fell from the sky?"

Everyone chuckled.

Newkirk smiled and drank more of his tea. "Thanks, mates. I'll sure be glad to give these back to Klink," he said, motioning to the pajamas. He put the cup down and blinked with a yawn. His eyes burned again and he closed them for a minute.

Everything suddenly turned quiet, and he reopened his eyes, feeling incredibly drowsy. Everyone stared at him, and he realized that he suddenly couldn't stay awake. He looked at the teacup in front of him, and knew what had happened.

"Aw, _Louis_…" he said, before face-planting on the table.

THE END

Here ends my tale of why Newkirk was wearing pajamas in the episode 'Information, Please', even though he wore his nightshirt in the eps before and after it. I have to give credit to Bits and Pieces, who gave me the idea of rain and newly-applied tar leaking on Newkirk in the night. LOL!


	6. A Banana a Day

A BANANA A DAY DOESN'T KEEP THE DOCTOR AWAY…IN FACT, CALL AN AMBULANCE!  
A Hogan's Heroes story  
By Deana

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This one-shot is the result of an actual scene in the season one episode, 'The Scientist'. When Hogan is in the middle of his hilarious tirade in the hotel, he's smashing things on the counter, and all of a sudden, we see Newkirk flick at a banana, as if he's trying to get it off the counter before Hogan smashes it! Ever since I spotted that, I've been wondering why on earth Richard Dawson did that, while filming. Here's the explanation I came up with for _Newkirk_ doing it, LOL!

To watch the actual scene, go to youtube and type 'Hogan's Heroes The Scientist Hotel Scene' and my clip will be at the top of the list! The banana-flick is at 2:59. Watch his right hand. LOL!

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Hogan sat by the radio, having just been told by the Underground a short time ago that DuBois the scientist and his daughter were safely handed over to them by Newkirk. Satisfied, he stood, to go back up into the barracks, when he heard the tree stump open. Knowing that Newkirk had returned, Hogan walked over to the ladder and watched as the Corporal descended. "The Underground sent word; they're both safe."

Newkirk smiled as he approached the last rung. "A job well done, then." He stepped off the ladder, but suddenly hissed and shook his right hand, as if it hurt.

There was a kerosene lamp right beside them, and Hogan caught a glimpse of color on the other man's skin. "What happened?" he asked, grabbing Newkirk's wrist and looking at his hand.

Newkirk shrugged. "Nothin'."

Hogan frowned. There was a large raised welt across the back of the Englishman's hand that had turned purple and blue. "_Nothing_? Did you encounter a patrol on the way back?"

Newkirk shook his head. "No…it 'appened in the 'otel, when we were waitin' for them to bring us the girl."

Hogan couldn't stop the quick smile that crossed his face…he'd had the time of his life yelling at the Germans and busting up the hotel. "But no one touched you."

"No _one_, sir, true."

Hogan frowned at the cryptic reply.

Newkirk shrugged. "It was ya ridin' crop, Colonel. While ya were smackin' everythin' on the counter, me 'and got in the way."

Hogan's eyebrows shot up. "What?" He looked at Newkirk's hand again, realizing that the welt was in the exact shape of the swagger-stick. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"It's all right, guv. It was me own fault."

"Did you take something off the counter?"

Newkirk hesitated, making a show of removing the belt and jacket of his SS uniform, as if he were stalling. "Not quite."

"What, then?"

Newkirk sighed. "Um…"

Hogan frowned. "Well?"

Newkirk bit his lip and looked at the floor. "Well, sir, I...flicked the banana." He winced at his own words.

Hogan blinked. "You…flicked…the…_banana_?"

Newkirk shook his head. This was sounding as ridiculous as he knew it would. "Well, ya see, there was a bowl of fruit—"

"I remember."

"Ya smacked the orange, an' it sprayed all over me," Newkirk told him. "I was afraid that ya were gonna smack the banana next, so I tried to flick it off the counter before ya 'ad a chance."

Hogan couldn't hide his incredulous expression. "Why were you afraid of the banana?"

"I'm not afraid of 'em!" Newkirk exclaimed, pulling his blue sweater over his head. "I'm _allergic_ to 'em, an' didn't want it to splash me in the face!"

Hogan blinked. "You're allergic to bananas?"

Newkirk nodded. Finished changing, he tiredly walked over to the bench and plopped down on it. "Right. When I eat one, I can't breathe."

Hogan was surprised to hear that.

"Right before I was sent on the mission that got me shot down 'ere, I ate what I thought was pound cake. It turned out to be banana bread. Nearly killed me, it did. I ended up in 'ospital for two days."

"Are you serious?"

Newkirk nodded.

"A banana a day doesn't keep the doctor away in _your _case, does it?"

Newkirk gave him a withered look.

"Sorry." Hogan shook his head, shocked. "Do any of the others know?"

Newkirk shrugged. "Just LeBeau. I told him that bananas don't agree with me, and to warn me if he makes anythin' with 'em."

Hogan gave an incredulous exclamation. "He _doesn't _know, then! Newkirk, 'deathly allergic' and 'don't agree with me' are _very_ different!"

"But it sound so silly, Colonel! Ya saw that I didn't even wanna explain to ya the whole banana-flick incident!"

Hogan shook his head again. "I see your point, but if something is a matter of life or death, then it doesn't _matter _how silly it sounds."

Newkirk nodded. "Yeah." He sighed again. "I jus' don't like attention, Colonel. Ya know that once the others find out, Carter will probably make 'imself me personal food-taster." He said it with a slight smile.

Hogan grinned. "You're probably right. Can you blame him, though? If you found out that a certain food did the same thing to _him_, wouldn't _you_ keep a lookout?"

Newkirk looked at him. "True."

Hogan slapped him on the shoulder. "Let's go upstairs. Maybe we can get Schultz to fetch you some ice to take the swelling down."

Newkirk nodded and stood. Just before he reached for the ladder, Hogan spoke again.

"You don't have anymore 'life or death' matters that I need to know about, do you?"

Newkirk shrugged. "That's for me to know an' you to maybe find out." With that, he headed up.

Hogan shook his head. "I'll kill him _myself_," he mumbled.

"No, Colonel," suddenly floated down the ladder. "There isn't."

Hogan sighed. "_That's_ a relief. Being the one in charge can really drive a person bananas."

The sound of Newkirk's laughter filled the tunnel.

THE END  
LOL!


End file.
